


The Way You Hurt Me

by 33sarah



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: BDSM, Bondage and Discipline, Collars, Dom Patrick, M/M, Masochism, Master/Servant, Master/Slave, Ownership, Pete and Patrick (Fall Out Boy), Sadism, Sub Pete, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-26
Updated: 2015-12-01
Packaged: 2018-03-09 02:46:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3233363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/33sarah/pseuds/33sarah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pete's Master has finally made a decision about whether he wants to keep him permanently, but the answer comes with an element he didn't expect.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Collaring

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for the support on my last piece. I'm considering adding an update to that if I continue to get a good response. This was supposed to be a one shot, but I'm liking the plot and will definitely add more at some point. Please feel free to leave any comments or suggestions you have below.

Pete’s phone buzzed on the coffee table. One new message. He glanced around to make sure nobody could read over his shoulder. The news anchor blabbering on about Thanksgiving traditions in the Chicago area was the only person in sight, so he deemed the situation safe.

“i have news for you, whore. come over in 15.”

Smiling, Pete pushed his phone into his pocket of his black skinny jeans and got off the couch. Quickly, he realized it would take a lot longer than fifteen minutes to clean up and be presentable. He headed toward the bathroom quickly to get ready for this afternoon’s activities. 

Once he’d straightened his hair and applied a generous amount of black eyeliner, Pete grabbed his keys and drove the familiar route to his Master’s house. It was in a fairly secluded area, several miles from Pete’s apartment in the city. He figured this was necessary, considering the kind of things that went down there and the city’s noise regulations.

Pete hesitantly knocked on the door and was let in by someone he didn’t recognize after giving the man his usual password. He descended the staircase with equal apprehension, unsure of exactly why he had been called in today. 

“I’ve been doing some thinking.” 

Pete recognized his Master’s voice from down the hallway. He must have heard him coming down the stairs.

“I’ve decided to keep you. You’re my slave, permanently. If you want out, let me know.”

Pete was relieved that he had done well in the past two and a half months that he had been coming to see his Master. Being able to stay a slave of this prestigious Dominant forever had been a dream of his for a while.

“Thank you, Master,” Pete said, approaching him. 

“One more thing,” the man said, now directly in front of Pete.

“Yes sir?”

“Read this.” The man handed a stack of stapled papers to Pete. It read like a formal contract. Pete skimmed through the technicalities and got into the fun part immediately.

“The Dominant will have any and all granted control over the submissive… including but not limited to… ownership of the submissive’s body (non-legal)… right to determine style and time of submissive’s collaring, if desired… The Dominant has included specific notes for the individual submissive below.”

Pete skipped a few paragraphs to get to his personalized contract. His Master noticed where he was in the stack and began explaining.

“You probably can’t read the things I’ve hand written in there, but it’s basically about regular times I want to see you and monetary arrangements. Also there’s the section… here about the collar I’ve chosen for you.” Pete read the scrawled lines about the collar his Master had chosen for him.

“A tattoo, sir?” he asked. He’d never heard of a collar like this before.

“Yeah, I mean like I said, I’m keeping you permanently. You’re mine, and I mean it. I’ll pay for it because that’s nothing you’re expected to cover, but I want it to be done soon. I know an artist downtown who’s familiar with this type of situation. I want you to be involved in the design, too.”

“That’s great, I, I really like that idea, thank you, sir,” Pete stumbled, still kind of confused about the whole idea.

After some discussion and an upsetting lack of play, Pete left the desolate house and headed back to his apartment. Almost immediately, he started sketching ideas for his collar tattoo. 

At first, the drafts looked pretty generic. Circular bands with some different shapes in the front, or maybe a tribal design. He wasn’t really positive if he wanted it to have significance, but he figured since it would last forever he wanted it to look cool. Pete had a few tattoos he’d gotten earlier, but nothing as prominent as this. 

It was Christmas week before it finally hit him. He had been approached by so many Salvation Army bell ringers trying to make sure he understood the real meaning of Christmas that he decided to do a little digging. Pete’s parents had always been pretty accepting about religion, so he hadn’t felt pressured to go to their church very often. Now, he was looking for inspiration, and he was remembering something about Jesus being tortured.

“So, Jesus was like beaten and whipped and stuff, right?” Pete asked himself. “And that’s what I do, too. Like, that’s my thing, I get beaten and whipped and stuff. It fits. And Jesus had this like, crown of thorns thing put on him after he was beaten, so, that’s a circular thing. That might work.”

He proposed the idea in an email to his Master, and got a positive response. 

“The Biblical allusion is kinda ironic, but I’ll go with it. Send me a drawing of what you’re thinking about and I’ll show it to Mike.”

Pete drew a quick sketch and sent it over to him, receiving a fine-tuned version from the tattoo artist-some guy named Michael Way-two days later. He approved it, and was called to his Master’s house to make plans.

“What are you doing for the next few hours?” Pete’s Master asked within seconds of his arrival. 

“I’m, well, nothing. Isn’t it too soon to do this? Like don’t we have to make reservations and have meetings and schedule payments and-“ Pete was cut off by his Master.

“Shut up, slave. I have it all figured out. Turn around, I can’t let you know where we’re going.”

Pete turned away from his Master and felt a blindfold going over his eyes within seconds. The click of handcuffs set Pete at ease, even though he was being shoved into the back of a van moments later.

After what felt like hours of bumping up and down across the dozens of Chicago potholes, Pete was finally at the tattoo parlor. He was escorted out of the van by familiar hands and another man, who was laughing. 

“So this is your new toy?” the man-probably Mike-said. 

“Sure is.”

“He’s damn hot, I’ll give you that. If he wasn’t yours you better believe I’d have my hands all over that slut,” said the man, who Pete was now certain was Mike.

“Watch it, asshole. Back off my boy, alright? I know he’s hot, that’s why I’m keeping him. Just do the goddamn tattoo and maybe I can hook you up with a different whore.” His Master was getting defensive and angry.

They walked into the parlor through a back door, and Pete was forced down into a chair. The blindfold was then removed, and his handcuffs unlocked but reattached to the arm of the studio’s chair.

Mike had disappeared from the scene, but walked back in a minute later holding printouts of Pete’s sketch and Mike's art. 

“This what you want?” asked Mike, gesturing to the papers.

“Yeah,” said Pete, looking towards his Master for approval. His Master nodded at him and smiled.

“You want painkillers, man? I’ve got some in the front,” said Mike.

Pete started to nod when his Master stopped him.

“My slut doesn’t get any painkillers. He’s here to hurt for me. I want him to feel everything.”

Pete gulped. He wasn’t sure if he really wanted to feel all of it, but he was determined to please his Master, so he agreed anyway. 

“You can still use your safe word, okay?” His Master reassured him. Pete sighed. Mike sat down and got a few ink colors out. 

“I was thinking brown with some black shading and yellowish highlights,” suggested Mike.

“Actually, I’d really prefer just black, if that’s okay,” said Pete. He glanced back at his Master yet again, to make sure that was a reasonable comment.

“Whatever floats your boat, man.”

Pete’s shirt was torn off by his Master readily. He was thankful he’d remembered to bring extra clothes in his car. Mike began the tattoo process as soon as he’d cleaned Pete up.

An hour and a half later, the first part of Pete’s tattoo was done. 

“This is pretty sick, man. You should come in a couple more times so I can touch up the shading and stuff, but it’s a solid collar for now.” Pete had been blindfolded again, and Mike was wiping the sweat off of Pete from where he’d been nervous and in pain because of the tattoo. 

“Are you sure you want him just for yourself?” Mike asked Pete’s Master. “I’d love to have him suck on me for a while. And look at his ass, I could use him for days.”

Pete heard his Master stand up. 

“You better get your hands off of him. He’s mine, alright? We’ve finalized the contract, and he’s mine. He belongs to me. Not you. Don’t go try to get him behind my back, either. I’ll find out. You can bet on that.”

“Ooh, damn. Yes sir,” said Mike, jokingly. Pete heard a smacking sound and was quickly unlocked from the chair and shoved out the back door. Screaming from Mike echoed down the alley Pete’s Master was furiously pulling out of. 

“He isn’t getting any of my damn money, that’s for sure,” Pete heard his Master grumble.

Once they got back to his Master’s house, Pete was tied to the suspension bar that hung a few feet off the ground in the basement. He’d only seen his Master this angry a couple other times, and he still remembered how much it hurt to have it taken out on him. 

Play that evening was certainly something Pete would never forget.


	2. Play

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pete returns to his Master's house after the collaring for an afternoon of play. Daydreaming leads to revelations about why he got into this scene, and who is Master really is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the positive feedback on chapter one! If I continue to get a good response, I'll add more chapters periodically.

“Mike… I should’ve known that asshole was into you. I should’ve realized…”

Every other word Pete’s Master spoke was another blow to his chest. He was just a fifteen minutes into the scene, and Pete’s chest was already bright red and nearly bleeding. Pete uttered a muffled, out-of-breath, “thank you Master” with each strike, exactly as he had been trained to do.

“I hope you aren’t interested in him, slut. You’re mine, and I won’t let him have you.”

“No, sir. Of course, sir. Thank you, Master.” 

“Good slut.”

The flogging continued. Once Pete was red and shaking, his Master untied him and helped him down. Pete started to walk toward his change of clothes, but his Master stopped him. 

“Do you think I’m done with you, whore?”

Pete stopped and turned around, ashamed he had made this assumption.

“No… no sir. I’m sorry sir.”

“That’s right.” His Master pushed him toward the wooden horse in the far corner of the basement dungeon. He pulled Pete’s jeans off and tore his underwear in half, tossing both aside. Pushing him onto his back, Pete’s Master strapped his wrists and ankles down so he couldn’t move.

“You know your safe word. I want to have fun with you for the rest of the day. I’ve got to avoid your neck until those pretty little thorns heal up, so I think I’m going to be having some fun with your cock tonight.”

“Thank you sir.” This wasn’t really Pete’s favorite activity, but at least he usually got to finish afterwards.

“You’re being such a good slut for me today. I’ll reward you for that.” Pete’s Master was still angry about the situation earlier, but he was apparently doing a little better.

His Master’s hand slid down towards Pete’s cock. Pete was almost completely hard and aching to be touched. Once his Master’s fingers reached the base of his cock, they stopped. Pete let out a low groan.

“You think you’re getting your reward now, you worthless whore?” Pete’s Master slapped him across his face. “You better show some respect around here.”

“I’m sorry Master. I won’t let it happen again, sir.”

“Alright, let’s get started. I want you to beg for me to hurt you.” Pete looked up at his Master and begged with everything he had to hurt for him. After what seemed to Pete to be far too long, his Master walked over to where Pete could only assume the toys were kept.

Pete was staring at the ceiling waiting for his Master to return when a thick black blindfold blocked his vision. He heard his Master mumble something about a lighter and walk off again.

The next sensation he experience was one he remembered, but only faintly. 

Scalding hot wax dripped over Pete’s body and trailed from his chest down to his cock, making him gasp in shock. Pete thanked his Master for the pain even though his mind was loaded with a whole range of colorful words that would definitely remove that promise of reward.

Wax continued to drip down onto Pete’s bare chest as he heard his Master laugh. He asked Pete how it felt to be degraded like the worthless fucktoy he was, and Pete responded out of obligation.

“Feels good, Master. I am here to serve you.”

Pete continually questioned why he returned to his Master’s dungeon. It caused him immense physical pain every time he visited. For some reason, the name calling and pain play had a positive effect on his mind. He was more open to new things in his everyday life and more willing to make sacrifices for others and be flexible.

It seemed like what left bruises on Pete physically helped him mentally. Alternatively, what left bruises on Pete mentally made him strive to improve physically. This seemed like a weird contradiction to Pete, but made sense somehow. He made a mental note to ask his therapist about it next time they had a session.

As he thought more about why he was into this in the first place, Pete went back to the first time he had seen his Master. He was still new to the scene, after being recommended to try out this lifestyle by a close friend. If only Pete had known what Gabe was getting him into. 

Gabe had immediately told him about the Master Pete was currently seeing once Pete explained what he wanted.

They were sitting around at a dingy Chicago pizza place, and Gabe asked Pete if he “needed anything.” 

“I don’t know, man,” Pete had said. “Like I’m definitely not getting what I want sexually, y’know? I don’t know what I need. Something more intense, like something I can really feel. I want more. Kinda wanna lose control. Do you understand?”

Gabe totally understood. He told Pete about everything he’d been experimenting with for the recently, some of which shocked Pete. 

“Yeah, man. It is weird, but I think you’d like some of it. You should definitely check out this one guy I found when I was looking stuff up. He’s a professional Master. His name's Patrick. You’ll like him.” Gabe had already pulled his phone out and looked up Patrick’s website.

Pete went home that night and did a ton of research about everything, especially this Patrick guy. He made an appointment to meet him in a week and a half, figuring he could cancel it if he got too nervous.

By the time that day rolled around, Pete found that he hadn’t cancelled the appointment and went to meet Patrick in his suburban home. The next few months after that were a rush of getting to know Patrick, telling him what he was comfortable with, and developing a relationship.

Pete’s mind raced back to the room he was in when he felt his Master’s whip crack sharply across his stomach.

“Come back to me, slut. I know you’ve been daydreaming. I want you to focus. What are you here for?” Patrick wasn’t angry, he understood that Pete’s mind wandered and he needed more than just slow dripping wax to keep him engaged.

“I am here to serve you, Master.” 

“Good whore. Okay, we’re done with the wax for today. It isn’t helping you right now.”

Pete nodded and saw his Master walk into the back of the room again. After a far shorter time, he heard his Master come back and sigh. 

“You know, I think I’m done with hurting you for today. I’ve used you enough. You’ve earned your reward.”

Patrick’s hand moved towards Pete’s cock and it jumped. Pete’s erection grew quickly and his Master started to stroke is slowly.

“Is this what you want, you filthy slut? You want me to jerk off your little cock?”

Pete started breathing erratically and moaning with passion. 

“Huh? Answer me, whore. I can stop, you know.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.” Pete could hardly speak he was so frustrated.

This went on for several minutes, while Patrick’s hand wrapped tighter and tighter as Pete continued to throb and beg. Eventually Pete was close to climax.

“M-aster may I cum please?” he gasped.

“What was that?”

“Master may I please cum for you?” Pete was desperate, barely holding back. He knew if he came early he wouldn’t get anything as good as this for months. 

“Yes, you can.” With that, Pete came hard all over Patrick’s hand, pushing forward and grunting. 

“Oh my god, oh fuck, oh my god, oh my god.” Pete collapsed on the bench. Patrick wiped his hand on Pete’s stomach and untied him.

“See what you get for being a good whore?” 

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.” Pete was more than grateful to his Master for allowing him this pleasure.

He left that afternoon with a stinging pain around his neck, satisfaction, and a renewed sense of purpose.


	3. Play, Continued

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patrick's had a rough day, and he knows exactly what he needs to feel better– Pete doesn't mind one bit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I haven't updated in forever, I'm trying to write a little more now. Let me know what you think!

Pete felt his phone buzz in his pocket while he was driving and turned around immediately. He was just headed to pick up groceries, and he knew who the text was from and what it was about. Patrick hadn’t texted him in a few days.

He read the message at the first red stoplight. Exactly what he expected. Fifteen minutes later, Pete pulled into Patrick's driveway. He walked downstairs.

“Sir, I’m here.”

“I’ve been waiting.” Pete started to move toward Patrick. “Stop there,” Patrick said. “On your knees.”

Pete knelt as his Master approached him. He could feel the anxiety pounding inside him as he anticipated what Patrick had in store for him.

“I’ve missed you, slut. I’ve missed hearing you whine and beg. I’m having a rough day, so I wanted to use my favorite toy to help take the edge off.” Pete knew he wasn’t allowed to make eye contact with Patrick until they were engaged in the scene, but he could hear his smirk in his voice.

“Thank you, Master,” Pete sighed. Taking the edge off couldn’t be that bad. 

“Hands back,” Patrick ordered. He moved his hands backward, and felt cold handcuffs click around his wrists. Soon after, the blindfold he was all too familiar with covered his eyes.

“I hope you’re not particularly fond of this outfit,” Patrick said with a laugh. Scissors pressed against Pete’s leg and he felt the shorts he always changed into before a scene being cut off his body. He inhaled sharply.

“It’s okay, slut. I’ll get you something nice to change into afterwards.” Patrick’s voice was the only thing keeping Pete together as his shirt was ripped away from him.

“That’s better. Stand up.” Pete stood, and was pushed toward what he could only assume was a wooden frame near the wall.

“This is a personal favorite of mine, but I haven’t used it with you yet. I wasn’t sure how well you’d take to the St. Andrew’s cross.” As far as Pete searched his memory for some picture of what this could look like, he couldn’t recall it until his wrists were freed from the handcuffs and thrust into the restraints. Oh, that cross. 

His ankles were the next thing to be tied down, and what little clothing was left on his was then torn off. 

Pete felt his Master’s hand slide down his chest and his favorite flogger pressed against his side. He wanted to hurt. He ached for it.

The first smack of the leather against his chest felt like fire, and it felt good. It burnt deep through him and radiated outward; the pain consuming him in spirals. Every repeated blow was pure pleasure. He kept quiet except for the occasional grunt. It was intense and painful and wonderful.

After several minutes, Patrick was beginning to wonder if Pete was okay.

“Enjoying yourself, whore?” he asked. Pete mumbled an affirmation, but Patrick wasn’t satisfied.

“I want to hear you. I want to fucking hear you, slut. I don’t keep you around for you to be an ungrateful little cocksucker.” Pete perked up slightly as the flogging continued, and tried to be more vocal. Honestly, he just wasn’t feeling that loud today. 

“Alright, pet. If that’s all you’re going to give me from this, I’ll have to make you scream some other way.” Pete was only moderately afraid of his Master’s threat. Pain was feeling exceptionally good right now. 

All at once, Pete felt his cock sink deep into Patrick’s mouth. He let out a low groan.

“That’s what I thought.” Patrick continued to suck him off slowly, and pulled back to tell him how useless of a whore he was once in a while. Pete felt Patrick’s hand against the base of his shaft, and felt him stroke up and down, rubbing his thumb carefully over the head of his cock. 

His lips pressed gently on the tip and slid over the length of Pete's cock again. By now, Pete was throbbing and couldn’t keep his moans back. Patrick sped up and asked Pete if he was close.

“I’m… no, I’m getting there. Taking a while, sir,” Pete said. This only made Patrick’s hand wrap tighter around his cock, and his lips migrate toward Pete’s hips. The sensation was almost too much for him.

“Sir, I, Master, I’m…” Patrick heard the urgency in Pete’s voice and pulled his hand away. Pete cried out. 

“You don’t deserve it.”

“Yes, sir.” 

After a minute, Patrick’s hand returned to Pete’s cock. This time, it was holding something.

“Oh, fuck. Fuck. No, please, no.” When he felt the sharp pinwheel spikes press into the skin near the base of his cock, Pete begged for Patrick to stop. 

“You can take this, slut. I know you can.” The razor-like ends of the toy pushed through the skin of his shaft and made him hurt more than any flogger ever could. 

“Master, I can’t, I can’t,” Pete was nearly in tears. Just as he was about to break, he felt Patrick remove the toy. 

“I know that’s all you can take for now. We’ll work up to something more fun soon. I have plans for you, whore.” Patrick’s fingertips had moved to Pete’s collarbone and were tracing the newly tattooed skin there. 

“Such a pretty boy,” he whispered into Pete’s neck. “You’ve done so well today. I think we can push you farther. Do you want to stop for now?”

“Well, I mean I could try something,” Pete said. Pete’s head was somewhere else by now. The tease had helped him focus, but the toy had thrown him off. “I need to focus again,” he finally said.

“You need what I say you need,” Patrick said definitively. “And yes, you do need to focus.”

With this, Patrick went back to Pete’s cock once more. This time, he stroked with determination. He kissed and sucked and licked and god, Pete was in heaven. He wanted more and more and more and far too quickly he was about to cum.

“Master please please may I please cum for you?” Pete begged like there was nothing he could possibly want more. Patrick felt the tension Pete was holding and decided that the poor little toy probably couldn’t stand much more if he didn’t give him this release.

“Who owns you, slut?” Patrick asked, still running his hand along Pete’s cock.

“Y-you own me, Master. I belong to you,” Pete whined. Patrick gave Pete permission to cum. If Pete wasn’t feeling loud earlier, he must have really woken up during the scene. 

“That’s a boy,” Patrick said, smiling. He pulled Pete’s blindfold off first and proceeded to unlock the restraints. “You have been so good for me today.” He let Pete down gently and helped him clean up. There was already a stack of clothes laid out for him to change into. Patrick really had made plans.

The dark red marks that had shown up early on in the scene still covered Pete’s chest and left a dull ache as he drove home. Before he could exit onto the highway, however, Pete felt another buzz in his pocket. 

“come back. i forgot something."


End file.
